If Forever Meant Now
by Kat J
Summary: (Nikolas/Emily) My first Nem fic!


  
  


I don't own anything. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. 

This is a little odd. It's written a little different. I'm not sure if it works or not. lol

My first NEM (Nikolas/Emily) fic! Hope ya like it! ;)

  
  
  
  


If Forever Meant Now

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He wondered what it would have been like had his family not been in financial ruin and his one true love torn between him and another. Would it be her ring that matched his? Her lengthy thighs and palm half pressed to his heart that kept him warm at night, instead of an empty bed and a nightcap of bourbon?

  
  


There was a time when he was the prince, the rightful heir to a throne he never much wanted, the loyal son, nephew, student, a time when foreign language fell from his tongue and manners dripped from his fingers without rehearse, where doors were opened and chairs were pulled out, there was a time when Nikolas was a name on a long list of names, when his opinion didn't matter so much and his fate didn't rest on a sham marriage, it was a time he wanted back. But he couldn't go back. He had to stare the future in the eye and grab it by the throat. He had to squeeze every last notion of being happy from his brain and settle for what he got. He had to accept it because it wasn't going away. The life he had was permanent. Forever.

  
  


If forever meant now and not tomorrow he would trade it in as his last day, savouring the seconds with Emily curled into his side. He would kiss the hurt and make her forget yesterday was spoiled; that they only had each other and it wasn't wrong. It was never wrong to love. And they hadn't chosen it, it just was. It couldn't be fought with voodoo magic and prayers to a God they weren't sure existed. They couldn't scrape it from their skin or strip it from their hearts. Love didn't work like that.

  
  


The rain licked its greedy tongue against the window pane. It mocked him. Teasing to drown him in the smell of sorrow. 

  
  


He layed alone in bed, the first of many nights to come. Watching, wishing the rain would stop and the strange wetness in his eyes would go away. Allergies, he told himself. A prince doesn't cry. 

  
  


Her nails on the door, a faint knock like the scurry of mice in the walls brought him back to the moment. She didn't wait for his answer, stepping light on naked feet she found him in the dark. Her delicate finger to his lips, her other hand palm side down over his heart, she met his eye. A sashay of fabric, tense movement bringing her over the plush web of blankets on the bed and a long-winded sigh as she settled next to him.

  
  


"Emily," he whispered in the dark, unsure if he was in a dream or awake. 

  
  


A gentle sweep of her hands over her body, bringing a lacy garment over her head, his hand placed on her ribcage as it pounded with a heavy pulse. Her breasts smooth, creamy white and bared to him as if in offering. He realized with a scan of eyes on pink skin all of her was exposed, every plane, every curve, every sinful inch. 

  
  


"I'm sorry."

  
  


Sorry for what? For being just as weak as he was. For being a figment of his imagination? For being real? What? What did she have to be sorry for?

  
  


"Emily."

  
  


Heavy pounding against his fingers, lungs so full of air they should explode and yet she remained there in front of him, a real image. "Shh. Nikolas, I can't..."

  
  


He thought he understood. Maybe it was goodbye or maybe it was a stab at regret like sampling sweet guava nectar that you knew had been poisoned. The taste is too tempting. There is no question that it's the wrong thing to do, but there is no helping yourself. The choice to die rather than giving up that outlawed amenity really isn't a choice at all. He'd die tasting Emily if that was the ultimate price. He'd die happy and full. 

  
  


For the first time as a slow tear rain down her moon-streaked skin he knew she was real. He'd imagined it many times in his dreams, holding her and whispering sultry promises danced up her spine and against her ear. Only now it was happening and he wasn't going to wake up to a pillow clutched too tight and hopes dashed too soon.

  
  


He reacted on instinct, pulling her against his bare chest, hushing his fingers into the silk strands of her hair. She cried on his shoulder. Short, gasped sighs and longer deliberate wails. Neither loud enough to wake the house, but they broke something inside of Nikolas and anything she wanted he would give her. And he knew what she wanted.

  
  


He pulled her back, stared into her eyes watching as the pupils dilated and shrank and then softly kissed her. Short, deliberate and soft at first. Then needy, exotic and urgent when she began to respond. There were slow, heartbreaking kisses. Tender, remorseful kisses. Hot, demanding kisses. And then the kisses transcended to touch. 

  
  


Touch felt alien to his skin because in his dreams the sensation was not palpable, but now everything was alive and participating. Sharp tingles of need trickled down his body and broke him. 

  
  


His hands braced under her arms, tickling faintly against her back and then the cool sheets caressed her skin. He took a moment to look at her and she was beautiful. So had grown so utterly breathtaking. He couldn't swallow the lump in his throat. As he looked into her eyes, he waited. He tried to give her an out, but she didn't want one. Not from this.

  
  


Grey shadowed the room, making the ivory hue of her skin glow in the darkness. His lips cultivated a map through the valley of her breasts, exploring the flatness of her stomach and the indent of her belly button. His eyes were dark with emotion, his hands splayed the curve of her hips and then they were there. 

  
  


Heat. White fire. Lightning cutting crisp outside. The smell of jasmine and mens shampoo. The taste of mint and bourbon. His mouth hovered against her neck, his lips sampling and his words binding. Three words spoken softly and she nuzzled into his arms, unhinged. 

  
  


Mouths brushed, fingers touched and pulses raced and they knew it couldn't be hidden. It would show on their faces and there was nothing left to save. It wasn't wicked, it wasn't evil, but it was over. 

  
  


The heavens keened, thunder barked, and silver cracks of sky erupted. Amidst the sounds of the storm, they wept. 

  
  


----

end.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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